


How To Succeed Without Really Trying

by orphan_account



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Succubi & Incubi, big brother shiro just wants keith to stay out of trouble please lord, hunk is getting tired of being the only person in his squad who makes good decisions, shiro and keith are half-brothers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-26
Updated: 2017-05-26
Packaged: 2018-11-05 06:20:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11007759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Keith is half-incubus, and only now that he's seventeen is he finding out what that means for him. Lance is human (at least he's pretty sure he is), and he keeps having dreams about purple eyes and not knowing why.





	How To Succeed Without Really Trying

**Author's Note:**

> listen i think fae are really cool and i kept wanting to write a fic about succubi, but i was disappointed by the fics already on here bc they were all like, an excuse to write noncon and avoid calling it noncon. so if writing a healthy relationship is possible in a succubus fic i wanna do that
> 
> also, it's my first time writing smut so hopefully that isn't too glaringly obvious
> 
> EDIT : i was originally planning to make this a multi chapter fic, but i've decided to keep it a oneshot. see end notes for why

“You are  _ not  _ going to that party,” Shiro states flatly, arms crossed in that I’m-your-older-brother-now-do-what-I-say kind of way. 

Normally Keith would give in and drop the argument, but not today. He’s hungry. He’s been hungry for a few weeks now. Food isn’t enough to fill his stomach anymore, as it had been for the first sixteen years of his life, and he’s going to have to make some changes. Keith knows it, Shiro knows it, and putting it off isn’t going to do anything other than make Keith live with this insatiable, gnawing feeling of dissatisfaction at the back of his mind for even longer than he already has.

“Shiro, I’m seventeen. You knew this would happen!” he argues. “You’ve gone through this, you know it won’t just go away if we ignore it!”

“I have gone through this before,” Shiro agrees. “But my first time wasn’t at a party full of people where I could have easily lost control. You can’t do that, Keith, you  _ know  _ that.”

“I’m not going to lose control!” Keith protests. “And I don’t see how keeping me cooped up in this tiny apartment with nothing to eat is helping me stay in control any better, do you?”

“There’s plenty of food.”

“I’ve been eating food nonstop, Shiro, and it’s  _ not helping.”  _

Shiro doesn’t say anything to that. His brow is furrowed, deep in thought as the older incubus tries to work out what to do. 

“I thought since you’re half-human,” he says after a minute, “that you might be able to get by on regular food better than I can.”

“Apparently not,” mutters Keith. And for the record, he  _ had  _ been trying. He’s practically eaten everything in the cupboards by now. It just isn’t working. He can eat all the food he wants, but it isn’t going to get rid of the basic instinct in the back of his mind telling him that what he needs to do is go out there, find another boy around his age, preferably a nice-looking one, and shove him up against a wall and whisper sweet nothings in his ear and-

He stops that thought in its tracks and shoves it to the back of his mind because Jesus Christ, he’s supposed to be talking to his brother.

Shiro sighs after a long moment.

“You need to be home by ten-thirty.”

As soon as Keith processes the words, he’s nodding. “Sure. I can do that.”

“And no alcohol,” Shiro says sternly. “I mean it. You don’t need anything else clouding your judgment.”

Keith makes a face at the insult, but agrees. He doesn’t like the taste of alcohol, anyway.

“And-” Shiro sighs, dragging one hand down his face. “Just don’t get into trouble. Please. Okay?”

“I’ll try,” Keith says, honestly.

“All right. I’ll see you later, then.” Shiro turns, heads back into the dimly lit apartment.

Keith grabs for his red jacket hanging by the door and calls a goodbye over his shoulder. 

 

He’s buzzing with anticipation when he leaves the apartment, that instinct at the back of his mind finally starting to feel satisfied now that he knows he’s going to get what he needs. He’d been feeling kind of sick lately anyway, from eating way too much food and yet having it never be enough. This is the best he’s felt since his seventeenth birthday, a whole month ago.

The party he’s headed to isn’t anything too big, hosted by someone at school he doesn’t know the name of and doesn’t really care to. But it’s going to be a moderate size, just enough people there for him to blend in and try not to draw attention to himself. 

The high of anticipation is wearing off by the time he gets to the house where the party is being held, a few blocks away from the apartment building he and Shiro live in. It’s a large house, with cars parked around it and stretching out in a line for about a block. The sun’s just gone down, and he can see colorful lights shining through the window shades, and hear the bassline of whatever music they’ve got playing.

God, he’s never done this before. He’s been to a party, yeah, but he’s never...fed on anybody.

Ugh, it sounds really sinister when he says it like that. He’s not a vampire, for god’s sake. He isn’t going to  _ kill  _ anyone.

And as soon as Keith realizes there’s a tiny part of him thinking that maybe Shiro was right and he’s not ready after all, he gives a big mental middle finger to that part of him and speeds up on his way to the door, just to spite it.

It’s dark in the house, the only light coming from those weird disco-type things he’d seen through the windows earlier. They’re set up everywhere.

He moves away to avoid blocking the door as a couple comes in, then makes up his mind and heads for the kitchen.

There’s a punch bowl sitting on the counter, but the odds are ten to one somebody’s spiked it, so Keith decides to play it safe and just gets water from the tap. He’s feeling a little lightheaded anyway, although that could be just the hunger.

Because _god,_ now that he’s gone through the changing process all incubi go through when they reach adulthood, he can sense the energy radiating off everyone in the house. He can taste it, the way you can taste electricity in the air during a thunderstorm. And while each scent is a little different, each one means _food_ and that is heaven to his empty stomach. It’s driving his instincts out of control. He can feel his hands starting to shake a little.

_ Calm down,  _ Keith tells himself, and takes a gulp of water, which helps clear his head. A bit.

He looks across the kitchen, where he can see into the living room over the kitchen island, and studies the crowd of moving, dancing people. It takes him a few seconds to realize he’s trying to  _ pick  _ someone.

Keith tries not to think too hard about what he’s doing, lest he psych himself out. It has to be somebody his age. A boy- he’s never really been into girls. And preferably someone who isn’t surrounded by a crowd that would notice if he suddenly left.

Just when he thinks he’s not going to find anyone, that maybe today isn’t his day and he’s going to end up back at that apartment slowly starving until the next time someone throws a party, he sees him.

The swimmer. That stupid guy from the swim team. Keith’s seen him before, in the school hallways. 

He’s a tall, brown-skinned boy with blue eyes and a lascivious grin, wearing jeans and a brown jacket. On his left is another tall boy, stocky, with darker skin and his arms folded like he’d rather not be at this party. (And although Keith’s attention is on swimmer boy, his heart skips a beat at seeing this guy, too. He remembers him, from cooking class. His name is Hunk Garrett. He has a pretty smile.)

On the right, there’s another kid, short, with glasses and sharp teeth, who looks way too young to be here. The three of them must be friends, because swimmer boy’s got his arms looped around their shoulders.

He can hear them talking. From across the room. Should he be able to hear them? Probably not. He’d bet it’s another incubus thing.

“I don’t feel so good, Lance,” says Hunk, shuffling to his left to avoid contact with the crowd around them. “I kind of just want to get home and maybe play some video games.”

(That must be his name. Lance.)

“Hunk, my guy!” pleads Lance, doing his best puppy-dog eyes. “Friend. Pal. Buddy. Amigo. We can’t just  _ leave _ right after we get here!”

“And if you puke on the floor, nobody will care.” The kid with glasses pats Hunk’s shoulder (stretching onto their toes to reach) as though they’ve just said something comforting.

Hunk does not look comforted. “That’s disgusting.”

“But this is the last big party of the summer,” Lance pleads. “School starts in a week and a half, remember?”

(Keith startled. He  _ had  _ forgotten about that. He’d gotten so caught up in this coming-of-age thing that he’d kind of lost track of the date.)

“Hunk, you know you’re not going to get him out of here before he hits on at least three girls,” says glasses kid again.

“Whoa, whoa, Pidge,” Lance says, finger held up. “Lance is equal opportunity, don't forget.”

Pidge rolls their eyes. “Right. Three girls and at least one boy that's way out of his league, then.”

“That’s a lot of snark for someone who’s four-foot-eleven.” Lance crosses his arms.

That gets a rise out of Pidge. “I am five feet and you fucking know it,” they hiss, jabbing Lance in the chest with one pointy finger. “Come on, Hunk, let’s go get intoxicated while Lance strikes out with a bunch of hot people.”

Hunk sighs, but he lets Pidge grab his hand and lead them through the crowd. They head right by Keith, who says nothing as they make a beeline for the definitely-spiked punch bowl.

Keith’s heart is speeding up a little. Lance is annoying, that much he remembers from school, but he’s cute, and has nice eyes, and he’s just headed off alone into the crowd.

Keith makes up his mind, downs the last of his water, and heads off, wiping his sweaty palms on his jacket.

 

~

 

The party is okay so far. Lance has only had one drink, but he’s starting to feel the familiar buzz at the back of his head. He moves through the crowd, feeling his heart pound in time to the bassline of the music coming from the living room speakers.

Someone bumps into him from behind, not uncommon since nobody seems to be watching where they’re going. He turns to apologize, and the words freeze on his tongue when he sees the boy behind him.

He’s familiar- Lance knows him from somewhere, maybe from the hallways at school. But at the same time that’s impossible, because he’s pretty sure he would have remembered someone this fucking  _ beautiful. _

The boy has black hair that’s a little longer than normal, and if Lance was in control of his mental faculties he probably would have called it a mullet and made a joke about it. He also has purple eyes, and holy shit but those are the most beautiful eyes Lance has ever seen on a person, like, ever. Ever, ever. 

“Sorry about that,” says the mystery boy, scratching the back of his head with one hand like he’s embarrassed.

“No, it’s okay,” Lance says quickly. “It was my fault.” It wasn’t, but who’s keeping track?

“Your eyes are pretty,” he blurts out, and cringes a little inside because way to go, Lance. 

Mystery boy doesn't seem to mind that Lance has the flirting skills of a third grader experiencing his first crush. Instead he laughs, and the sound of it makes Lance’s stomach do a flip. Jesus, he hasn’t said more than three sentences to this kid and he’s already toast. That’s not normal.

“Thank you,” says mystery boy. “Blue eyes are my favorite, though.”

Lance forgets all about it not being normal.

“My name is Keith, by the way.”

“I’m Lance.”

He realizes they’ve just been standing there in the middle of the moving crowd. All of a sudden, the mass of people that hadn’t bothered him before seems to close in on him now, and he’s struck with the urge to find somewhere quieter. 

“Do you- would you want to-” He points over his shoulder with one thumb, unsure how to really finish the sentence. “Want to come with me?”

Keith smiles.

 

~

 

What’s really surprising is how  _ easy  _ this is.

Keith doubts it’s really all because of his amazing talent or whatever. Lance is a flirt, he’d probably agree to make out with anybody that asked. But Keith has to admit that he’s cute, really cute. And he’d been really anxious before, but now that Lance is leading him by the hand towards the hallway, he’s really looking forward to this. To whatever’s coming. 

His instincts are coming alive, now that he’s so close. He can taste the energy radiating off of Lance in waves. 

He takes a deep breath through the nose. Lance’s scent is like sea air, mixed with citrus. Something lemony. It’s a lovely scent. Keith wants to smell more of it.

“I think this is empty,” he says, pointing to one of the doors in the hallway and Lance pushes it open. It looks like…

“This is a closet,” says Lance, making a face.

Keith touches Lance’s cheek, gently turns his head to face him. “Does it matter?” He was using his influence before, but now he  _ pushes,  _ watching the other boy bend.

And Lance says, “No,” and leans in to press his mouth against Keith’s.

It’s good. It’s so fucking good Keith almost forgets to shut the door behind them. He’s kissed before, but it wasn’t like this. Never like this. He hadn't changed back then, after all. 

But now he’s a full-grown incubus, or very nearly, and he is about to feed for the first time and he has never felt this good in his  _ life.  _

He lifts one knee and presses up, between Lance’s legs, and the other boy gasps and clings to Keith’s shoulders like he might fall.

“Do you like that?” murmurs Keith, sounding a lot more confident than he feels.

Lance doesn't reply. His eyelids are fluttering, his eyes barely open. 

Is Keith laying it on too thick? Maybe he should let up a little. Lance seems like he’s about to pass out right here in the closet, and leaving unconscious people in closets at parties would definitely fit Shiro’s definition of trouble.

He tries to pull his influence back a little, and it must have succeeded, because Lance blinks dreamily and brings one hand up to trace the curve of Keith’s neck. His hips are rocking slowly against Keith’s knee, and Keith wonders if he even realizes that.

“Are you okay?” he asks. He needs food, needs it like oxygen, but he’s not okay with forcing someone against their will. 

“Never better,” replies Lance, smiling at him. 

All of a sudden, their positions are switched, and Lance is mouthing at Keith’s jawline while he rubs circles into Keith’s hip with his thumb, the other hand bracing him against the wall of the closet.

Keith’s instincts are telling him he should be the one on top, pinning Lance’s hands to the wall, leaving hickeys along his throat, driving him crazy with gentle pressure until the other boy forgets his own name. But Keith finds he kind of likes it this way. As appealing as that other image is right now, he thinks he can settle for Lance’s hands roaming and Lance kissing him like he has only ten seconds to live and this is what he’s decided to do with them.

“Didn’t expect to be doing this tonight, did you?” he gasps.

Lance laughs at that and looks up at him (and it’s only then that Keith realizes he’s slumped down against the wall and Lance is on his knees, when did that happen?). 

“No,” he admits, “my friends were convinced I was going to strike out.” Then his eyes widen slightly. “Wait, my friends...how long have we been in here?”

He’s moving his focus away from Keith, thinking about Hunk and Pidge and whether they’re going to start wondering where he is, and Keith doesn’t like that at all. He hasn’t eaten yet.

“Forget about it,” he suggests, straightening up. “You can meet with them later.”

Lance blinks, his eyes going cloudy as Keith presses just a little harder. “I just don’t...want them to worry…”

“They won’t,” Keith reassures him, his voice lowering almost to a purr. “Don’t worry. I won’t keep you for long.” He draws the other boy to his feet, slowly turns them around until Lance’s back is to the wall again, and Lance lets him, with a dazed expression on his face that, if Keith is entirely honest with himself, is going straight to his dick.

“Besides,” he whispers in Lance’s ear, “why would you leave when we’re just getting to the fun part?” He lets one hand drift down to the other boy’s fly and punctuates his sentence with a firm caress.

“Oh my God,” says Lance, and his eyes practically roll back into his head. Suddenly he’s reaching for Keith’s shirt collar, pulling them together with a fierce desperation. Keith lets him, tasting energy on his tongue and relishing in it.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” Lance mutters against his mouth. “What are you doing to me?”

Keith freezes up at that, but in the next second Lance seems to forget he’d said it, because he goes right back to rocking his hips against Keith’s. Low, heady noises of pleasure are coming from his throat.

Keith’s instincts are in full swing now, telling him what he needs to do. To kiss here, whisper in his ear there, and watch as his chosen partner falls to pieces in his hands. God, he wants that so badly. It’s not just about feeding, either. Lance is absolutely beautiful, and he seems like a good person, and Keith wants to give him as much pleasure as he can.

After a few minutes, the other boy gasps, spine going straight, and Keith holds him gently to support him as he convulses once, twice, and sinks to the closet floor.

_ Now, _ Keith’s mind is telling him,  _ now, now, now,  _ so he leans in close, finds the source of that sea air and citrus scent at the junction of Lance’s neck and shoulder, and lets himself take. 

There’s so much energy in Lance, so  _ much,  _ and it flows into Keith easily. He doesn’t take all of it, or even most. Just enough to fill his empty stomach, and then just a little more, because it smells so goddamn good. Lance will be tired tomorrow, and he’ll have to take it slow for a week or maybe two, but he’ll be absolutely fine. 

The realization that he  _ could _ take more from Lance, if he wanted to, strikes him, but the thought is terrifying and he quickly shoves it away.

Now comes the last part- making Lance forget. Keith doesn’t like this part- he feels invasive, messing with memory. But he has to- if he let Lance come to his senses remembering Keith, he would know something was wrong with their encounter, and it would only scare him. Keith has heard stories about the things that can happen when an incubus or succubus doesn’t remember to clean up after theirself. Some people have a breakdown and go to the church confessional talking about demon possession. Some people think they’ve been drugged and report it to the police, making that succubus or incubus need to relocate to an entirely different town. It would be easier and probably safer for both of them if Lance forgot.

The other boy’s eyelids are fluttering again, his breathing slowing down, evening out. There’s a stain on the front of his pants. Keith feels guilty about that. 

“Lance,” he murmurs, helping the other boy stand, and  _ pushes _ . “Listen to me.”

Lance nods slowly, his eyes opening just enough to focus on Keith, but still clouded.

“I’m going to leave in a second,” Keith tells him. “And in a few minutes I want you to go to the bathroom and splash water on your front, like someone spilled something on you. Nobody will notice the stain on your pants then.”

“Okay,” Lance whispers, brow furrowed slightly in confusion. Keith pushes harder, reaches up to smooth his hand over Lance’s forehead, and the confusion disappears.

“And then you need to go home,” he says. “Find your friends, like you wanted, but then go home, alright? You’re drained, and you need sleep.”

Lance nods slowly again.

“And,” Keith takes the other boy’s face in his hands, so he can make eye contact, “you have to forget about this.”

“...why...?” murmurs Lance, looking hurt.

“Never mind why. I don’t want anything bad to happen to you, and it’s better this way. But you’re going to forget about me as soon as I leave. You met someone you liked, and you enjoyed yourself...you can remember that. But you will forget everything else, do you understand?”

Lance is silent for a long moment.

Keith pushes harder.

“Okay,” Lance sighs, almost dreamily.

Keith presses a kiss to the other boy’s forehead and then flees the closet without letting himself look back.

 

~

 

“Jesus Christ, what happened to  _ you?”  _ Someone’s voice filters into Lance’s consciousness, and he wills his eyes to focus enough to see who it is.

It’s Pidge, grabbing his elbow and looking concerned. 

“You have like, five hickeys on your neck, you’re wet all the way down your shirt, and you look like you’re about to pass out,” they say. “What the hell have you been up to?”

“I don’t really remember,” Lance says truthfully.

Pidge’s eyebrows raise. “Wow. You’re definitely going to have one hell of a hangover.”

“Yeah,” Lance says, too tired to converse further. “Where’s Hunk? I think I’m ready to leave.”

“He’ll be happy to hear that,” Pidge says, and thankfully they’re leading him, because his feet don’t really want to coordinate right now.

He hears Hunk’s voice after a minute or so. “Jesus, what happened to Lance?”

“He doesn’t remember,” Pidge says dryly. “My bet is, made out with someone, said something to piss them off, and got their drink tossed on his shirt. Anyway, he says he wants to leave.”

That’s not what happened to him. Lance is sure of it, even if he isn't entirely sure what  _ did  _ happen. But again, he’s too tired to argue, so he doesn’t say anything. 

He goes to sleep in the backseat of Hunk’s car, listening to Hunk and Pidge talking up front, and manages to find his house key in his pocket when they drop him off at home. 

After getting inside, avoiding stepping on the cat, and drinking about a gallon of cold water, Lance is feeling a little more alive. He glances at the clock- ten forty-five. His little sisters are both out of the house, sleeping at a friend’s, which explains the quiet.

He stumbles upstairs and goes to sleep without pulling back the blankets on his bed, just remembering to slip his shoes off in the process.

He dreams about someone pretty, with purple eyes.

 

~

 

“You were almost late,” Shiro says from the kitchen table as Keith bursts through the front door of the apartment.

“But I wasn’t!” Keith says triumphantly. “Ten-twenty-five isn’t late!”

“You're right,” Shiro says, grinning back at him, and then, cautiously, “So you’re...feeling better?”

“Yeah.” Keith doesn’t share the details of his experience and Shiro seems relieved not to hear them. 

“Sorry for being a hardass earlier,” his brother says, standing and crossing the room towards him. “I just don't want you getting in trouble the way I did at that age.”

“I get it,” admits Keith. “It was a bit different than I thought it would be.” It had scared him, back in that closet, the realization that had he wanted to, he  _ could  _ have hurt Lance. Could have taken more than he did. Just having the ability to affect another person like that was too much to think about.

“As long as you’re being smart about what you're doing,” Shiro says with a sigh. 

“I am,” Keith tells him.

There’s a pause before his brother speaks again. “You probably won’t be able to sleep tonight. I never can.” 

Keith prefers not to think about the implication in that sentence, and just nods. 

“Okay. Thanks, Shiro. ‘Night.”

“Good night, Keith,” his brother says, heading for the kitchen as Keith goes the opposite direction to his bedroom. 

Shiro is right- he can’t sleep. The energy he took from Lance is still fresh, coursing through his veins and making his head swim and his fingertips buzz, and there’s no way he can sleep when he’s so wide awake. But he can’t think of anything else he wants to do, so he just lays on his bed with the light off and stares out the window at the streets below.

Keith thinks about Lance, about school, and he wonders if he’s going to be able to face the other boy the next time he sees him. It’s not like Lance will remember anything- but instead of comforting him, that thought only makes his stomach twist unpleasantly.

He can’t get those blue eyes out of his head for the rest of the night.

**Author's Note:**

> after i originally posted this, someone made an excellent point that posting nsfw of teenaged characters where adults can read it isn't good to do. i'm the same age as keith and lance, so this didn’t cross my mind until it was pointed out to me. but on further consideration i decided i don't feel comfortable posting nsfw when i know there are adults reading it, some of them shaladin shippers at that. so i'm keeping it a oneshot and i'm orphaning the work, thanks everyone for reading


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